It was several long seconds before Maurisk risked turning around. There was no rear door in his office, not even a window. No way out, but Ionkovo was gone nevertheless.

Maurisk pulled his chair back up to his desk and took a moment to compose his features and let his hammering heartbeat slow. Then, once he was certain he was in control, he said, “Kellerman?”

The door opened. “Yes, sir?”

“That colonel, the one who was in here breathing fire. Do you recall his name?”

“De Ferre, sir.”

“Is he still in the city?”

“I don’t know, sir. But I will find out directly.”

“Do so. And tell him I would like to speak with him.” Maurisk had dismissed the old nobleman as a hopeless reactionary, and only listened to his complaints with half an ear. But he remembered the venom the man had aimed at Vhalnich. “Tell him I may have an assignment for him after all.”

Chapter Ten

WINTER

Winter opened her eyes with some difficulty. It felt as though someone had glued them closed with spirit gum. She sat up, or started to; the slight movement set off a pain in her head like a cannon going off.

“Rest easy.” Her mind felt fuzzy, and it took a moment to recognize the voice. Janus. “What did I tell you about leading from the front? Here.”

Winter blinked, and her surroundings became a bit less blurry. There was a canteen in front of her, and she took hold of it greedily, sucking down cold, clear water until it was empty. Then, cautiously, she tried sitting up again. Her heartbeat thudded in her head, each pulse producing a stab of pain, but this time she managed to get upright.

It took her a moment to realize what was so disorienting about her surroundings—she was not in a tent. Instead she found herself in a bed in a well-appointed bedroom, with heavy curtains drawn across the windows. A table and chair were pulled up by the bedside, and Janus sat with his hands folded, regarding her with broad gray eyes. She handed back the canteen, and he gave her a full one, which she swallowed from a bit more slowly.

“The cutters have been all over you,” Janus said. “From the Girls’ Own, naturally. Your Lieutenant Forester was quite the watchdog. They tell me that if you were going to develop a fatal swelling of the brain, you would have done it by now, so you’ll probably recover.”

Winter reached up to touch the side of her head. There was a lump there, although lump was probably not an adequate description of a swelling bruise bigger than her palm. Touching it brought on another shooting pain, and she closed her eyes and took deep breaths until it steadied.

“You’re lucky it didn’t break your skull,” Janus said. “Do you remember what happened?”